Separate Nights Out
by Gramm485
Summary: Lying low from the events in Alaska, Chris and Claire try to take up a new life for the time being. Things quickly spiral downward as a stress free evening brings them both face to face with evil. The third continuation of my previous RE stories.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Phantasm**

"_Dammit, Claire. Where are you?_" Chris thought, panicked. He doubled over panting. It felt like he had been running through these halls forever. They all began to look the same after a while. Chris tried to straighten up, but his side cramped again. He bent over, clutching it. "_No time to sit and rest, I have to find her!_" Ignoring the pain, he took off running down the hall again. His feet thunked loudly on the metal floor and echoed down the ghostly tunnel.

They were suppose to be finished with this type of thing. Weeding out Umbrella labs were a thing of the past. Then Rebecca had found something. She said that it was important, and that the S.T.A.R.S had to intervene. For the life of him, Chris couldn't remember what it was. His entire mind was hazy. He couldn't remember where they were or why they were there. The only thing he did know was that they had arrived at yet another secret lab, and walked right into a trap. Unmarked soldiers had ambushed them, and now Chris and his friends were separated. Chris's radio had been shot to pieces during a gun fight, and he had no other way of contacting them. His headset was nestled around his neck. He hadn't had the time to take it off.

He and Claire had been separated when a grenade rolled into a doorway they were sitting in. Each of them dove in opposite ways, and the door had collapsed, sealing them from each other. Chris, Jill, Barry, and Rebecca managed to fight their way out, but after they had dispatched the soldiers and retreated, Chris found himself alone. He had no idea where the three of them went. They simply vanished.

There was no time to think about that, though. Chris knew that they could take care of themselves. He continued to run down the endless stretch of hallway with his gun clasped in his hand. His Glock was down to about half a clip. He had to find his sister and escape from this place, before any more soldiers, or worse, showed up. He just prayed that Barry, Jill, and Rebecca would manage to escape as well. He turned the corner and bashed open a door. There was yet another endless looking hallway waiting for him.

As he ran down the new hall, a side door burst open , and two soldiers swept out. They took aim at Chris with their submachine guns and fired. Chris ducked an slid along the ground, firing his pistol. He killed one, then the other as he skidded on his stomach along the stone floor. Scrambling to his feet, he snatched one of the automatic guns from their corpses and dropped his empty handgun, then continued his sprint. He burst through another door.

He had found Claire. She was accompanied by a dozen fully armed men crowded around her in an irregular semicircle. Chris raised the gun to his shoulder and looked down the sights. There was a click of metal and safety's as the soldiers did the same thing, locking onto Chris. Outnumbered and outgunned, Chris swept his gun across the mob, constantly switching targets. He couldn't watch them all at the same time.

"_Crap..._" he thought. He sneaked a peek at Claire. She was kneeling in the center of the room, in between Chris and the guards. If they started shooting, she would be in between the bullets path. Chris could clearly see that she was trembling violently, and tears were streaming down her face. "_Why is she so afraid? She's tougher than that._" Chris felt a growing sense of dread in his stomach. Something was wrong. "Don't worry, Claire," he said to her, not taking his eyes off of the soldiers. "We'll get out of this." Claire only responded with a whimper.

The mass of soldiers parted, and Chris instantly trained his sights on the man passing through. It was Albert Wesker. He boldly strode forward until he was even with Claire. Oddly enough, he wasn't wearing his usual sunglasses. The red, glowing eyes that Chris both hated and feared were boring into his skull. Dressed in black combat fatigues, Wesker took on the appearance of a shadow. Chris broke out into a sweat. This was bad. Wesker folded his arms casually across his black tactical vest.

"Once again, you fall right into my hands, Chris," he said. Chris lined up Wesker's head in the gun's sights. How he wished to pull the trigger, and squeeze a round right between his eyes. He would have his revenge, although it would cost him his life. But there was no way he could do it if Claire was still breathing. She was the only thing that kept him fighting these days. While she was alive, Chris vowed to protect her.

"Wesker, you fuck, let her go." Chris growled. Wesker seemed fairly unimpressed with Chris's request and the way he delivered it.

"It seems we go through this every time we meet," drolled Wesker. "I let your sister go, we exchange blows, and I usually end up leaving empty handed. It's very boring for me. That's why I've decided that we end this right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious Chris? You are not going to leave here alive. My men have already contacted me. The rest of your friends are dead. It's just you and me now."

"Bullshit!"

"Believe what you want, it won't matter in the end. But don't worry," he added, drawing his sidearm. "I know how much you need to be with your sister. Rest assured, she'll be waiting for you."

With that, he trained his gun on Claire and fired. The shot hit Claire in the chest, directly over her heart. She rocked back on her knees, and her legs kicked out from under her as she fell. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she hit the ground. Her head turned, and her beautiful blue eyes stared glossily at Chris before they closed.

Chris screamed and reached towards her. He heard gunfire, but his thoughts were only trained on his sister's motionless body. He dropped the gun he was carrying and began to run to Claire. As he leaped for her, the room dissolved, and went black.

Chris found himself sitting upright in bed, with his arm stretched out into the darkness, trembling. His entire body was soaked in cold sweat.

"_Not again,_" he thought, putting his hand to his mouth as his stomach wrenched. He fell out of bed and stumbled into his bathroom, finding the toilet in the dark. He retched and vomited violently as the vision of his dream stayed imprinted in his mind. He spat into the toilet, and flushed his body's reject down. He stayed, kneeling in front of it in case another wave of nausea hit him. Nothing came, so he got up shakily and turned on the light.

Chris winced as the light blinded him. Covering his eyes, he peeked through his fingers until his eyes had sipped enough light. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was a total wreck. Pale and sweating, he tried to mop himself dry with a towel. After he rinsed his mouth, he ran a hand through his damp hair and leaned over the sink, staring at the pattern on his sweat pants.

"_Looks like another sleepless night,_" he thought. His nightmare was a recurring one. They had happened on and off since the mansion incident. Always, his friends were involved in his dreams. When he discovered that Claire had gotten involved in Raccoon City, the dreams began to almost always contain her. Now they were increasing exponentially, both in horror and frequency. He was beginning to lose count of how many times he was unable to save her. There were some similarities, but no two dreams were ever alike. This latest one with his mortal nemesis had been particularly horrible.

Chris shut the light off in his bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. He heard a soft knock at his door.

"Chris, are you okay?" floated Claire's muffled voice through the door.

"_Ugh, I woke her up,_" Chris thought, pissed at himself. He really didn't want to talk about it now, and especially not to her.

"I'm fine, Claire. Go back to bed," he called. Despite what he said, Claire opened the door a crack and slipped in the room. She was barefoot, wearing cotton pajama pants and a tank top. Her long brown hair was loose, a rare sight. They both looked at each other awkwardly in the darkness.

"Chris, I'm not stupid," Claire said from the doorway. "I heard you puke. Now what is it?" She folded her arms across her chest, waiting for his answer. Chris ran his hand through his hair again.

"I felt sick," he said, half lying. "It must have been something I ate tonight, but I feel fine now." He looked at her toes as he spoke. He couldn't lie to her face, and Claire knew that. Claire sighed and raised the stakes.

"I also heard you talking in your sleep," she added, "and it didn't sound too good." She strode across the hardwood floor and sat down next to him on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. "Come on, Chris, what is it?"

"It's nothing, Claire," he said, still avoiding he eyes. He could barely stand to look at them after what he had dreamed about. "Really, I'm fine." Claire pursed her lips. She still had one last ace up her sleeve.

"This isn't the fist time, Chris. I've heard you a couple other nights. It sounded the same as tonight."

Chris sighed and gave up. He told her everything: what he had seen, and when the dreams started. Everything he said was spoken directly to her face. Claire stared right back, never batting an eye at the horrible things he told her about. When he finished, she wrapped her arms around him and placed her head on his shoulder.

"Well, they're just dreams," she said. "With everything you've gone through, I'm not surprised. I am a little surprised, however, that you didn't want to talk about them. I know that you're more mature than that."

"Maybe who I am is just a face," Chris said absentmindedly, resting his head against hers. "The fact that I was S.T.A.R.S's point man, and that I led my friends in a fight against an evil corporation. Maybe I'm just a scared kid, and I'm afraid of screwing up and being unable to protect you someday."

"I don't believe that," Claire said. "I know that you keep your promises. You said you would never leave me or let anything happen to me, so I know for a fact that you'll always come through."

"Thanks Claire," he said. What she said always made him feel better. Claire shifted on the bed, and placed her back against the headboard. She pulled Chris's head down into her lap, and began to stroke his hair. Despite his earlier thinking, Chris began to feel very tired. It comforted him greatly that his sister was with him, safe and sound. "Hey, you should get back to bed," he said.

"No. I'll stay here for a while," Claire said. "Just relax." Chris stretched out on his bed, his head still on Claire's lap. He closed his eyes, Claire's darkened face the last thing he saw, and soon was fast asleep.

Claire continued to stroke his head. She felt bad that Chris had to go through all of this. He had just been in the wrong place, then used and betrayed. Now, he had taken it upon himself to finish what was started. She wished that she could make it easier for him, but right now, it sounded like she was making things worse. All she could do was continue to fight with him, and get stronger. That way, Chris wouldn't have to fight so hard to protect her.

She tipped her head back against the wall. A wave of fatigue had suddenly passed her. She herself hadn't been sleeping well at night. Although she wasn't plagued with nightmares, Claire had other reasons for being awake. She guessed it was a trait of the Redfield family to worry about their siblings. Claire worried about Chris as much as he did about her, although she didn't outwardly express it. Even Chris didn't know.

She closed her eyes and slowly nodded off.


	2. Making Plans

**Chapter 2: Making Plans**

Chris woke slowly, vaguely aware that what his head was resting on wasn't his pillow. He slowly remembered last night, and realized that Claire never left. He slowly peeked open one eye, and saw that she was still propped against the headboard, asleep. Her chin was tucked into her chest, and she was snoring lightly. Her hand was still resting on his head.

Slowly, he pulled himself off of her lap. Her hand brushed aside and hit the mattress; she was out cold. Chris carefully slid her from the headboard and crookedly arranged her on the bed, sticking one of his pillows underneath her head. He drew the comforter over her, and she stirred slightly. Chris smiled and brushed some of her hair past her ear, away from her face. He crept out of the bedroom and shut the door.

They were lucky to find a cheap apartment that was big enough for both of them. It wasn't much, but it had two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. Chris went into the living room/kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

After Alaska, they had planned to continue searching for Umbrella's secret labs and bases, but certain 'things' occurred. They had figured when the massive explosion occurred outside an Alaskan village, the police would get involved. They did, but when the police came up with nothing, the FBI, CIA, and NSA got involved as well. The entire US government wanted to know why a large bomb was detonated on American soil without them knowing. Chris figured that they were worried about a terrorist attack or something. It didn't take them long to figure out that there was a hidden Umbrella lab there. The government had arrested dozens, if not hundreds of Umbrella employees. Most of them were willing to trade secrets to cut down their life sentences.

Leon contacted them. He had always been their inside source in the government, occasionally dropping a line and giving them some information. However, he didn't exactly have good news for them this time.

It seemed that after the former S.T.A.R.S team had been denied the opportunity to weed out Umbrella's secrets, the US government put a watch on them. They were right to think that the S.T.A.R.S wouldn't just sit idly by. Now, with the Alaskan facility destroyed, they began to suspect that the S.T.A.R.S had a hand in it. Even worse, a local witness had reported seeing them near the location of the facility in Alaska. A few days later, Chris was shocked to see the photos of themselves on TV as wanted for questioning.

Lucky for them, Leon was able to pull a few strings, and the arrest warrant was lifted. Even so, he told them that they were still being searched for. At that time, it was unanimously decided that the S.T.A.R.S should split up for a while. They wouldn't be able to do any good if the government had it out for them. Jill and Rebecca went their separate ways, and Barry moved back with his family. Chris and Claire moved in together.

This all happened three months ago. Now, Chris and Claire had settled in. Tucked in a mid-sized city somewhere in North America, they began to regain a normal life. They had both found jobs. Chris worked at a gas station, and Claire got a job at the local library. They could barely squeeze by the rent on their apartment, but otherwise everything was fine. They weren't pursued by Umbrella anymore, but they were still on their guard. It might have been three months since they were attacked by them, but the threat was still there. The most powerful Umbrella employees still haven't been accounted for.

Chris finished eating, then set his dishes in the sink. It would be his turn to do the dishes, so he figured that he would do them all at once in the evening. He hopped in the shower for a bit. When he came out, Claire was up, fixing her breakfast. They greeted each other.

"'Morning" Claire said yawning.

"Good morning," Chris responded, yawning himself as he saw Claire do it. "Thanks again for last night."

"No problem." she said. "I was thinking about that for a bit. I think you might be a little strung out. A lot has happened in the past few months. I know your job really isn't that demanding, but you've been through so much. What if all these nightmares are just stress?"

"I don't know," Chris said, scratching his head. "I don't feel that stressed out. After awhile, all this crap with Umbrella seems normal."

"Exactly," Claire said. "It might seem normal, but it's not. I don't think anyone is cut out for that kind of stuff, and now it's starting to take it's toll on you. You don't work tonight, so rather than stay here and brood about what's happening, why don't you go out and have a few beers? I'd join you if I was older, but I was planning on going out for a ride tonight anyway."

Claire had taken up her old hobby: motorcycles. By constantly hoarding her money, she got a lucky break when she found a used Harley-Davidson XL1200C for sale in the newspaper. She got it cheap, because it wasn't in the best condition. She was no mechanic, but when it came to bikes, Claire knew plenty. She fixed it as best she could. It was even painted crimson, her favorite color.

"Well, okay. I guess you're right,"

"Just don't call me if you get drunk, because I'm not picking you up," Claire teased.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it," Chris laughed.

Claire tossed her dishes on top of Chris's and hit the shower. Chris headed into his room and changed into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Claire later emerged from the shower and changed into jeans and a black t-shirt.

Throughout the day, they took care of little things. Claire was still unofficially in college, so she was always reading a textbook. There wasn't much time previously to sit and study. She felt like she had a lot to catch up with. From the looks of things, she might not get back to school for a few years, if all.

In the middle of the afternoon, Claire threw on a leather biking jacket and grabbed her helmet. In a small backpack were her riding clothes. She worked the last shift at the library before it closed. Chris turned on the TV and lounged in front of the it for a couple of hours. He had nothing else to do.

At 7:00, he put a light jacket on and headed out to the bus stop. He couldn't afford a car, not at the same time with Claire's motorcycle. He didn't mind, though. He would much rather her be happy. The sun had already began to sink into the horizon, and the tall buildings cast dark shadows along the city's streets.

The bus arrived after a short wait, and Chris confirmed that it was the right number and boarded it. The bus took him downtown, through the center of the city. It wasn't a large city, but it wasn't that small at the same time. All in all, it was about a hundred thousand people; just the right size to disappear into. After passing a few stops, Chris got off and walked a couple of blocks. He knew a decent bar, so he decided to hang out there. It wasn't a seedy shack, and it wasn't a gentleman's club either. It was just a basic sports bar, where people came to watch TV and get drunk. Chris planned on catching a basketball game that would be playing an hour later.

Chris pushed through the door and into the noisy bar. Large projection TV's covered two of the walls, displaying various channels. It wasn't too busy yet, since it was still early in the night. Chris weaved through the people and sat down at the bar. He ordered a beer, and slammed half of it. It felt good to taste it. It had been awhile since he had had the pleasure of alcohol to dull his senses. He grinned to himself. It reminded him of the few times he went to J's bar in Raccoon City with Barry and the team. Back then, he had real problems on his hands.

Chris remembered one special occasion where he had almost gotten into a fist fight with Kevin Ryman, one of the Raccoon City Police Department's cops. He was a good officer, and loved what he did. He and Chris got into an argument about his exam scores for S.T.A.R.S entry. When it came to police tactics, Kevin tended to cut corners. It was an attitude problem. In Chris's opinion, Kevin was a hair to care free. Maybe Chris was just a hard ass, but either way, Jill ended up between them, pushing both of them away from each other. Chris still remembered the cocky look in Kevin's eyes and the slap that Jill had given him across the face to calm him down.

"_Good times,_" Chris thought. He wondered what happened to Kevin. No doubt he was just one of the many casualties of the city. Chris pushed it out of his mind. "_There were thousands of people in Raccoon City that died. I did all that I could._" True, if Chief Irons wasn't working for Umbrella, maybe the city could have been evacuated, or the outbreak stopped entirely. Chris shook his head. He was supposed to be enjoying himself, and he was only making himself depressed. He took another drink of his beer.

Half an hour passed, and Chris long finished his first beer and moved onto his second. He closed his eyes and thought about how good it felt to be living a quiet life again. Maybe, if this continued, Claire could get back into school, and he could get a permanent job in the local police force. Leon and the US government could handle Umbrella. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel.

While he was enjoying himself, a voice spoke right next to him.

"Well hello there..."

Chris turned his head to the side and saw a beautiful woman sitting on the adjacent barstool, looking at him intently.


	3. Dressed to Kill

**Chapter 3: Dressed to Kill**

Surprise would have been an understatement as Chris's reaction. The woman next to him had appeared out of nowhere. She hadn't been sitting there when Chris reached the bar. She must have come in after he sat down. However, that was only a quarter of Chris's surprise.

The woman was drop dead gorgeous. Although they were sitting in a casual sports bar, she was completely over dressed. She wore a long black dress, which was split dangerously high up the right side, well past her hip. Etched into the black fabric was a gold pattern that coiled around hem, then up to the waist. Chris thought it looked like a chain. The dress tied behind her neck, leaving her back bare down to her tailbone. Her leg was slipped teasingly out of the slit in her dress and crossed over the other. Midnight black high heels were strapped like talons on her feet. She propped her arm against the bar, letting her short, silky black hair fall through her hand. Chris was taken aback. She looked like she might have had some Asian decent in her, but Chris couldn't tell in the light of the room.

"Uh, hi," he said dumbly. She smiled, revealing a mouth of perfect white teeth. Chris could tell she was reveling in his reaction

"I've never seen you here before," she said casually.

"Oh, do you, uh, come here often?"

"I stop by, from time to time," she said lazily, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass. Chris saw that she was drinking champagne. The bottle stood opened next to her. Chris wondered if she planned on finishing it herself.

"_Why is she talking to me?_" Chris wondered. "_And why is she dressed like that?_ _Is she off to a party, or is she just a woman trying to pick someone up at a bar?_" He laughed to himself. Claire would have a fit if he brought someone home with him. She had said to enjoy himself, but that might be taking it a bit too far. Still, maybe he "still had it." He had been a little popular with the girls in high school. His mother said he had a natural charm. "_So just play along a little, see if you still got what it takes to pick up a chick._" Chris took a breath and smiled at the woman.

"I just moved here, so I'm not used to the area, but I looked up this place, and figured I'd start to meet people here." She seemed moderately interested. Her fingers moved from the rim of the glass, and down to the stem of the slender neck of it, sliding her middle and index finger up and down it.

"Oh, where from?"

Chris almost opened his mouth, then stopped. He had to watch what he said. It's not like this woman was a security risk, but she didn't need to know that he was entangled with both Umbrella and the government.

"I, uh, moved from Georgia," he lied blandly and laughed. "Atlanta was just too big a place for me."

"Hm, I would have guessed it was business related. Do you live alone?" she asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"_Jeez. She moves fast,_" Chris though, amazed. "No, I live with my sister." He kicked himself as soon as he said it._ "Idiot! Why not just say that I live with my parents as well?_" To his surprise, the woman smiled again.

"That's sweet, that you take care of your sister and protect her."

"_Strange choice of words,_" Chris thought as the smallest twinge ran down his spine. That was exactly why he was with Claire, but there was no way she could have known that. "_Big deal._" The woman continued talking.

"So what do you do? We've established that you didn't move for business, but you must have a job around here."

"Well, I used to be a cop, but I dropped that when I moved. I got a part time job at a gas station." He rolled his eyes. "I'm in between careers. I was thinking about getting back into law enforcement, though. It sucks, trust me." The woman laughed.

"I'm sure it does." Her eyes danced down Chris's form. "You do seem to be the athletic type. Just right for a lawman. I know a cop, but certain circumstances have prevented us from seeing each other." She sipped her from her glass. "I'm sure your job can't be much worse than mine, though," she added.

"And what would that be?" Chris asked, taking a drink of his beer. Claire was right, this felt great. He was drinking beer and talking to a beautiful woman. What more could a guy ask for? Well, a lot, but Chris wasn't going for it.

"Oh, I'm nothing more than a delivery girl," she said without interest. "Unappreciated, over worked, you know the deal," Her dark eyes bored into Chris's. He felt himself blush. Maybe he was enjoying himself a little too much. "In fact, I just finished my last assignment, and I'd thought I'd have a drink before I left." Her eyes never left Chris.

"_Why does she keep staring at me like that?_" he thought, just the tiniest bit unnerved. "So, uh, who do you work for?"

"I'd rather not say. I'm not supposed to talk about it," she replied cryptically. "All I can say is my boss can be a bit of jerk. I know you'd hate him. I do. But, I can't exactly quit."

"Why is that?" Chris asked. The woman drained her glass and poured more champagne into it.

"I guess you could say I owe him a lot. Still, I don't always play by his rules, so it all works out."

"Yeah, probably," Chris said and laughed. "So, what's your name?" The woman smiled mischievously again and chuckled.

"I don't give my name out to strangers, handsome." Chris shrugged.

"Then I guess you're not getting mine, either," he said and laughed. She laughed along with him. She slid the bottle of champagne between them.

"Care to help me with this?" she offered.

"Thanks, but I'd better not. I've already had two, and I don't want to go overboard."

"Fine, suit yourself," the woman said, smiling.

The conversation between Chris and the woman continued for several minutes. They still talked about trivial things in life. The entire time, her eyes never left Chris, which began to unsettle him even more. It was if she was analyzing him. By now, the bar was almost full. The game was playing on several of the wall screens. As they talked, trouble approached.

Three men, looking like they had drunk just a glass too much, joined Chris and the woman. Of course, they were more interested in her than Chris. Standing side by side, the one in the middle addressed her.

"Hey girl, you're looking pretty fine in a place like this," he said smirking. He took a sloppy drink from the bottle in his hand. The woman glanced at him, smiled briefly and looked back at Chris, rolling her eyes. The man saw this and grinned. "You're awfully rude. Someone might get a little pissed at that. But not me. I'm a nice guy." He leaned close to her. Chris saw her lean back, no doubt recoiling from the liquor on his breath. "So what do you say that you and me hook up outside." Chris had had enough.

"Hey bud," he said. "We were in the middle of a conversation. Do you mind?" The man closest to Chris gave him a hard shove. Chris fell off of the barstool and hit the ground.

"Back off, shithead," the man growled. His pride bruised, the inherited Redfield temper rose in Chris. Before he could get up and flatten the man's face, the man in the middle grabbed the woman's bare left shoulder roughly.

"Listen sweetheart," he hissed in her ear, "why don't you come with us before I decide that I'm _not_ a nice guy." Slowly and daintily, the woman reached up with her right arm and gently covered his hand with hers. There was a blur of movement, and Chris saw the fabric of her dress arc outward into a circle as she spun off the stool and around the man. Quickly locking him into an arm bar, she drove his face into the bar. The impact sounded throughout the bar as the man's head rebounded off the bar. He fell backwards onto the floor, unconscious.

Her dress fluttered back to it's place, her leg poking through the slit as she stood with one hand on her hip. The entire bar fell quiet and looked to see what the commotion was. The only noise was the sound of music and the sound of various channels playing over portable bar speakers. The woman cocked her head the side and looked at the man that had pushed Chris.

"I don't like it when men play rough."


	4. Woman in Black

**Chapter 4: Woman in Black**

"Bitch!" the man behind the woman spat. He punched at her, and she twirled and easily blocked the hook coming for her face. She thrust her palm into his nose. As he recoiled, she grabbed his shoulders, and drove her knee into his diaphragm. Losing his air, he gasped and doubled over. She turned him over her leg, tripping him and simultaneously once again palming him in the face, driving him into the floor hard.

Chris could scarcely believe his eyes as the woman flawlessly pummeled the attacker. Sure, they might have been tipsy, but for a woman to handle them so easily was something that Chris would never believe until he saw it. Fortunately, the woman was giving him quite a show. The third man picked up a bottle from the bar and raised it, preparing to strike at the woman, who had her back turned.

From the floor, Chris kicked and caught the man in the back of the knee. The man stumbled, giving the woman enough time to turn her sights on him. She swung her leg in a wide crescent, catching his arm in its wake. The bottle shattered as her foot kicked it out of his hand. The woman continued into a spin, swinging her other leg across his face. Her foot knocked him clean off of his feet. He did a half a spin in the air and landed on top of the first man. The woman planted her feet cleanly, her dress swirling around her feet as she stopped.

Chris clamored to his feet. Three more angry looking men, evidently friends of the first three, were pushing through the bar. The people surrounding Chris and the woman had pressed back, fearing for their safety, leaving a wide open circle for the fight to progress.

"_Nothing like a bar fight to relieve stress,_" Chris thought sarcastically to himself. The last time he had gotten in a fist fight that wasn't Umbrella related was in high school. A man lunged at him with a chair. Chris jumped back and let the chair swing by. He football tackled the guy into a nearby pool table, and man dropped the chair. Chris punched him across the face. The man took the punch, then responded by butting his head into Chris's nose.

Stunned, Chris fell back, holding his nose. He brought his arm up and managed to block a punch aimed at his head. Jabbing his elbow into the man's chin gave Chris enough distance to step and kick the man in the face. He fell back, sprawled on the pool table. Gingerly, he felt his nose. It didn't feel broken.

The woman was fending off both of the other men at the same time. She was able to block both of their attacks, but wasn't able to drop either of them with a strong attack. All she could do was block and counter with various strikes. One of them grabbed a pool cue off of the table and swung the thicker end at her like a bat. It stopped during his back swing, and he turned and found Chris holding the end of it.

Chris wrenched it out of his hands and stuck it across his face. The man fell down hard. Chris saw the woman deliver several kicks to the last man. He too fell to the ground, unconscious. As the attackers were defeated, the woman turned away from the circle of people. A loud explosion roared across the room. It sounded like a hand grenade was detonated.

Pandemonium erupted as women screamed and men shouted. All of them, fearing for their lives, began to pile out the exits. Several alarms went off as fire doors were opened. Soon, only Chris and the woman remained. Chris saw her hands move and slip something down the front of her dress. It looked like a silver tube of lipstick. To Chris, it looked like a detonator. The suspicion rose in Chris. After seeing her fighting and her suspicious concealment, Chris wondered just who she was.

"You are one hell of a fighter," he yelled over the alarms, walking more towards the middle of the bar, away from the knocked out men. He was trying to act casual. The woman smiled and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes.

"Thank you," she called back, walking to him. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a former cop."

Chris tensed as she drew closer. There was no way that they met by accident.

"Who are you, really?" he asked.

"I told you, I don't give out my name to strangers," she said.

"But you don't mind blowing up a bomb in a public bar?"

In a flash, she drew her knee into his gut. Chris was ready for it. He caught her slender leg with his palm, then blocked her incoming strike with his other hand, holding her wrist tightly. He twisted her wrist, then pushed down on her elbow, bending her at the waist and locking her into and arm bar. She grunted as she was forced down, and Chris saw surprise cross her face briefly.

"One wrong move and I snap your arm," Chris threatened. The woman smiled at Chris from her trapped position.

"You're pretty clever, Chris," she said, "and quick on your feet." Chris's heart beat faster. So, she knew his name the whole time.

"So you're another Umbrella lapdog?" he asked her, keeping an iron hold on her arm. The woman put on a pouty, hurt look.

"Oh, do I look like a dog to you? And here I am, all dressed up, just for you." She giggled to herself. "But no, I'm not Umbrella. They don't pay high enough." Chris's eyes narrowed.

"_Not Umbrella? I guess it makes sense. Their assassins aren't this high caliber._" Chris thought the obvious. "_Wesker's organization? But there would be no way that Wesker would send someone else to kill me._"

It didn't matter who it was. Chris and Claire had been discovered. What if they were going after her as well? He had to get out of here and warn her, but he couldn't release the woman. No doubt the police were on there way. He just had to hold her until they got here.

"So help you if you thugs hurt my sister," he said to her, twisting her arm ever so slightly. Chris wasn't a sadist, but just the thought of this woman endangering them got a rise out of his temper. The woman writhed only the slightest bit. Chris could tell she was in pain, but still, she grinned. It looked like she was enjoying this.

"I haven't done anything to her. In fact, I have no idea where she even is."

"So what do you want with us?" Chris asked, not sure whether to believe her or not.

"I told you, I don't play by the rules," she said. "I'm here for my own enjoyment." She turned her head away from him. "You know, if all you wanted to do was bend me over, all you had to do was ask..." Chris turned scarlet.

"Uh-" was all he got out as the woman turned into a blur of movement. She flipped forward, her arm untwisting from Chris's grasp as she did. Landing on her feet, she launched her leg in a high arc over his head. Chris still hadn't let go of her wrist. Her leg landed on both of there arms. The woman now stood on one leg, precariously balanced on her high heels. Locking her own hand on Chris's wrist, she turned and delivered three swift kicks to the side of his head. Chris released his hold on her wrist and stumbled back.

The woman kicked again, her black heel aiming for Chris's head. He blocked and punched. She easily avoided it and countered with her own hand techniques. Chris blocked the chop to his gut, but missed the palm to his face. He recoiled and was just barely able to dodge her follow up kick. Regaining himself, he dodged a punch she threw at him, and threw several of his own.

Like flowing water, she weaved in and out of his volley of punches. She caught one of his punches in mid strike and trapped it at his waist. As she brought his arm down, it caught his other, and now both were trapped. The woman lunged forward and drove arm into Chris's neck. He dropped his chin just in time. A strike like that might have collapsed his trachea.

Despite the years of close quarters combat he had learned in both the military and the Raccoon City Police Department, Chris was being beaten soundly by the woman. He had been taught to counter throws, holds, and take downs, and to block many types of strikes. Every technique that Chris used, the woman effortlessly evaded it. Every strike she flung at him only hid a second one that connected.

Feeling as if his jaw had become unhinged, Chris fell back stumbling. His foot caught on something and he fell back against the bar. The woman hopped forward and kicked at Chris; not at his body, but his hand. Her high heel sailed through the air like a dagger. The point struck against the wood, right through the gap in his fingers. In an amazing leap, the woman back-flipped off of the bar, her heel trailing across Chris's injured chin. The force of the kick almost propelled Chris over the bar. The woman landed neatly in front of him, sinking to her knees as she absorbed her weight.

Chris saw nothing but stars as he slid down and away from the bar. Through his blurry vision, he saw the woman cock her head; there were sirens drawing closer. Chris knew that he had to keep her busy for just a little while longer, but he could hardly move. His entire body was in pain.

"Hm, too bad," she said absentmindedly. "You're a lot of fun, Chris." She plucked her purse off of the bar where she was sitting, then drained the rest of the champagne in her glass. "Although I'm afraid I can't be seen with you." From her bag she procured a peculiar looking gun. It looked very old fashioned, and had what looked like a winch built under the muzzle.

"_Ugh...can't let her escape...if she might know Wesker..._" he thought hazily. He forced himself to his feet and took a feeble swipe at her. The woman dodged and caught his arm. She pointed her gun across it and fired. A thin metal wire shot out and embedded itself in the far wall, then she hit him in the gut with her knee. Chris doubled over and felt her body roll over his back as she spun over him. The wire from the gun danced around Chris's ankles. Crouching low, the woman pushed the ringed trigger of the gun forward instead of back, and drew her arm back swiftly. The wire quickly began to retract back into the winch on the gun.

Chris managed to stumble one of his legs over the wire, but it snagged his other. It whisked his leg out from under him, and he flew into the air. He landed hard on his side, groaned and rolled onto his back. In a flash, the woman was on top of him, straddling him at the waist. She leaned over the dazed Chris, her face close to his. He could smell her perfume.

"A lot of fun indeed," she said, looking into his eyes. "Just my type, too. It's a shame that I'm interested in someone else." The woman chuckled. "I'll let you know if it doesn't work out." She kissed two fingers and pressed them to Chris's lips. "See you around, handsome." She swept off of Chris and strolled out of the bar, purse in hand. He saw her stand outside the door and point the gun towards the sky. She fired the line out again, and the last Chris saw of her was her being swept out of sight.

A minute later, the city services pulled up front. Three police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance pulled in. Chris groaned.

"_Looks like another trip to the hospital,_" he thought. As much as he wanted to get up, his body was firmly beaten to the ground. "_God, please don't go after Claire_." He prayed that the woman was only here for him, and that she didn't bring friends. He strained and tried to sit up, but the racking pain in his body kept him down.

"_Who was she?_" The woman admitted that she wasn't Umbrella.

If it was Wesker's organization, they were in trouble.


	5. Lone Wolf

**Chapter 5: Lone Wolf**

After a brisk run along a series of rooftops, Ada Wong climbed down a fire escape, mingled with the people on the sidewalk, and strolled back to her hotel. It was only a few blocks from the bar where she had met Chris. It was only the middle of the evening, and the sidewalk was still fairly busy. Aside from the stares of a few men, no one bothered her. Even if it was in the middle of the night, Ada wouldn't have worried about being mugged; she could handle herself.

Her black heels clicking loudly on the pavement, she reached the circular driveway for the valet parking of the hotel. Ada always knew she was high maintenance, and this hotel was no exception. She had a five star suite, and everything from a hot tub to a mini bar in her room. She could hardly wait to hit them both when she got back. She left the public sidewalk and walked up the driveway to the hotel.

The doorman gladly opened the door for the beautiful woman. She strolled across the extravagant lobby to the elevator and called it, then rode it up to her room on the top floor. She had the room at the end of the hall, the most private she could get. Ada pulled her key out from inside her strapless bra. It was too easy for a purse to get stolen, even for her. The key could lead anyone back to where she was staying, and it was Ada's job to remain non-existent. That's why she kept the key on herself. In fact, most of the things in her purse pointed onlookers away from her identity. Even the name she was signed in as was a fake. Here, she was Clarissa Reynolds, a banker from Los Angelas on a business trip. She had everything from a fake family history to a fake social security number.

Ada unlocked her room and threw her purse onto a chair, then flicked on the light. The spacious room was richly furnished: a Persian rug lay spread across the floor, the king sized bed had silk sheets and pillows, and the mini bar's counter top was solid marble. Everything was highly decorated and/or expensive. She had her own walk-in closet, although it was empty; she wouldn't be staying long enough to utilize it. Her room also had a great view of the surrounding city as well as a balcony, but the blinds were always pulled. It was part of the whole non-existent thing.

Ada stretched in the middle of the room. She hadn't even broken a sweat during the brawl in the bar, but she had a few kinks in her joints from punches and kicks. Her forearms were a little tender from blocking, but thankfully, there were no bruises along her perfect tan skin. Her left shoulder was aching the most; Chris had applied quite a bit of pressure. She sighed and undid the dress's tie at her neck. The black garmet slid down her lithe body and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it, and headed towards her bar. She was interrupted by a chime from her purse. She groaned and rolled her eyes.

"_Impatient as always,_" she thought. Her purse beeped crossly again. "_Alright, alright, I'm coming,_" Ada walked to her purse and opened it, pulling out a small device about the size of a personal digital assistant. It had a small camera built into the side of the screen. Ada pressed her thumb against a pad on the front, and the device scanned her thumbprint.

Ada's PDA contained extremely sensitive information, and could only be accessed by her identification. It would be impossible to access without her fingerprint, so if it was stolen, the perp would also need to have cut off her thumb. Fat chance of that every happening. Once it registered correctly, Ada held it at arms length and pressed a button, smiling.

"_Let's see if he likes this..._"

The screen on the PDA flickered, and Albert Wesker appeared on the small screen. Clad in a dark suit and his usual sunglasses, he was standing with his arms crossed and his lips pursed.

"You're late," crackled his voice over the speakers. He sounded a little more than irritated.

The device Ada held was a two way communication device, linked directly to Wesker via a satellite. She could see him, and he could plainly see her. What he saw now was the upper half of Ada Wong, clad only in her underwear and high heels. Wesker didn't even stutter at her flawless form. Ada laughed silently in her head. She didn't expect anything less from him.

"I finished early, so I thought I'd go out for a drink," she said lightly. Wesker's feature went darker.

"I don't pay you to waste my time," he seethed. "Now give me your report. Have you located Gerald Colby?"

Ada sighed inwardly. She had been searching for the Umbrella executive for the last month. From the little information that Wesker shared with her, Colby was the administrator for a lab in Nevada. The initial raid of the lab turned up very little. All of the biological research had been either destroyed or removed. Colby wasn't located. After the lab's computers were picked clean, they found several possible leads to his location. Ada had just exhausted the last one. The man had just disappeared.

"No, I haven't found anything," Ada said. "The Umbrella branch here was abandoned. It's scheduled to be demolished a week from yesterday. The police have no records of his arrest or death." Wesker mulled this over.

"Hmmm...very well. What about your secondary objective? Have there been any sightings of the S.T.A.R.S?" Ada's eyelashes fluttered.

"No." Ada might be indebted to Wesker, but that didn't mean that she couldn't make his life difficult. Wesker cocked his head to the side and stared at her, seeming to question her response. Ada's outward appearance stayed the same. She was a good liar, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking because of his sunglasses. He seemed to buy it.

"Alright then," he said after a while. "Return to headquarters tomorrow. You'll be thoroughly debriefed." Ada saw him reach to disconnect, then pause. "And be sure to come fully dressed." Ada smirked as the screen flickered off. She tossed the PDA back into her purse and headed back to the bar. She poured herself a small glass of wine, then went to run the water in her hot tub.

"Chris Redfield..." she said to herself slowly as she soaked in her tub. The thorn in Wesker's side. He was quite persistent. It all started back in the mansion in Raccoon City. Wesker was working for Umbrella. When the 'incident' occurred, Wesker took the opportunity to betray Umbrella. Ada admitted that his plan was clever, albeit incredibly suicidal._ " Injecting yourself with an unknown virus could have been your undoing, Wesker,_" she thought to herself. Luckily for him, the virus worked properly. Wesker feigned his death by letting a Type-002 Tyrant attack him. At the time, the Tyrant was Umbrella's prized creation, and the organization wanted it, but not until it was field tested.

Unfortunately, Chris, Jill, Barry, and Rebecca managed to kill it, and all of Wesker's plans went to hell. Ada could see why Wesker held such a grudge against him. She could tell that the feeling between them was mutual. Wesker was primarily responsible for the death of the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. To top it all of, he had gotten a little to close to Chris's sister, Claire.

Ada had met the younger Redfield sibling briefly in Raccoon City, when she was dispatched to recover Birkin's G-virus. She displayed remarkable abilities for her age and situation, even if she was inexperienced. She had a natural talent for fighting. As soon as Ada saw Chris, she saw Claire. They were the perfect description of brother and sister. They could have been twins.

_"It's a shame that I won't be able to meet them at the same time,_" Ada thought to herself. To Claire, Ada was dead. No doubt that Leon had told her what happened. The chance remained, however, that Leon didn't tell her, but the risk was to great. There was still hope with Chris, although the next time they met would probably be hostile. _"Pity."_

Ada drained the rest of her glass of wine and got out of the hot tub. She ordered a small meal through room service. A half hour later, it arrived. Answering the door wrapped only in a small towel, she nearly leveled the man who catered it. Tipping him only with a sultry wink, she sat down to have her meal.

Tomorrow, Ada Wong, rather, Clarissa Reynolds would vanish.


	6. The Valkyrie

**Chapter 6: The Valkyrie**

After punching out in the early evening at the library, Claire retreated to the woman's bathroom. When she emerged, she had changed clothes, revealing her true self: a Valkyrie of the street. Her current outfit was a perfect match to the one she wore in Raccoon City: skintight Under Armour shorts ran halfway to her knees. A pinkish shade of crimson cut off jeans that would be considered raunchy, had it not been for the Under Armour to provide more cover, sat low on her hips. A matching Under Armour shirt covered her torso, and on top of that was an old treasure that Claire had found.

Claire had given her "Made in Heaven" biker vest to little Sherry Birkin when they were in Raccoon City. She let her keep it as a gift. The logo on it was a match to a jacket that Chris once owned. Claire recalled seeing it when she was in the S.T.A.R.S office. That coat now was only a few stray atoms after the nuke vaporized the infected city. Even though it was a favorite of hers, Claire let Sherry keep it. When a duplicate appeared on eBay one day, Claire pounced on it. A short week later, she had a brand new "Made in Heaven" vest. The fabric of her cut offs and the leather vest matched perfectly.

Zipping the vest halfway up her body, Claire sighed in satisfaction. It always felt good to step out into the world the way she wanted to. Bidding good night to her co-workers, Claire went out to her motorcycle, redoing her hair into it's ponytail as she walked. She pulled her keys from her loose, lopsided leather belt. Perching herself on the seat of her bike, she placed her helmet over her head, then kicked up the kickstand with her brown, knee high boot.

Claire keyed the ignition, and revved the bike loudly. Finding great pleasure in the roar it made, she flipped the visor of her helmet down and peeled out of the library's parking lot. During the day, the city had fairly busy streets. Now that the evening was growing later, they were less congested. Still, Claire headed to the outskirts of the city, where the long country roads would be clear.

As the evening air rushed past her, the only sound Claire heard was her bike's engine. It drowned out everything else in her world. All that remained was Claire and the motorcycle on which she sat. All the stress of the fight against Umbrella and Wesker disappeared for now. She didn't know why she got such a buzz off of simply riding, but she was glad that she had something to distract her from all the things in her life. Changing lanes on the road she was on, Claire veered off a side road and headed further out of the city.

After going out for her initial spin, Claire decided to head towards a small park on the edge of the city. She spotted it on a day time ride earlier that week. She had been meaning to go there for a while. It took her about fifteen minutes to get there.

When she got there, the park was completely empty. Pulling slowly into the gravel driveway, she parked and killed her engine, then pushed the kickstand down with her foot. She took off her helmet and gave her head a brief shake, loosening her hair. Claire swung her leg off of her bike and walked off of the driveway.

The park consisted of a baseball field, a few sets of bleachers, and some scattered picnic tables. Hopping up on one, she sat on the table and listened. All she could hear were a few distant birds settling down for the night, and the internal clicks of her motorcycle's innards cooling down. The world seemed relaxed, and Claire relaxed along with it.

The sun was almost set. Claire sighed again, although not in satisfaction. It was times like these when she wished that Steve was with her.

Claire had been coping with his death very well, ever since she talked to Chris about it. Even so, it was still something she had trouble dealing with. Claire folded her arms around her legs and drew her knees up to her chin. He had been the first person, other than Chris, to express deep love for her.

"_If only I could have had a little more time with him,_" she thought to herself. They had only been with each other for a few hours on Rockfort Island and the Antarctic base. Although neither of them admitted it to the last minute, they were quite taken with each other. Steve saved Claire's life several times, and in turn, Claire gave him the companionship that he never had from his family. Claire felt her throat get tight. "_No, not just a little more. I wish he was here with me right now..._" As much as she tried to avoid it, she pictured their last moments together: Steve was cradled in her arms, his body a dark shade of ash gray. His body was slowly deteriorating from when he was injected with a virus.

Claire bit her lip and shut her eyes, casting the vision out of her head; she could feel her eyes beginning to water. She wasn't going to cry out here all alone. Steve was gone, and that was that. She was sad now, but she would move on. It would just take some time. Chris promised that he would help her through it. Already, they had talked several times. Each time they did, she felt a little better about the whole thing.

The last arc of the sun disappeared under the horizon, leaving only the orange glow in the sky. Claire took a deep breath and held it. After a few seconds, she let it out slowly. When the last of it escaped her, the sky was dark. The tightening in Claire's throat vanished.

Claire checked her watch. She had been sitting there for half an hour. Now, the sky and ground were almost pitch black. Claire got off of the picnic table and got back on her motorcycle. She revved it up and turned on the single headlight. It briefly illuminated the park as she turned the bike around and pulled out of the driveway, kicking up some gravel as she passed out.

"_Now, other than driving around aimlessly, where would a college girl go on her night out?_" Claire thought to herself. Undoubtedly, she would go to a bar with her friends with fake I.D's. Claire was alone, and didn't have a fake I.D with her, so that was out of the option. A movie theater? A bowling alley? A house party? Claire was stumped. None of those types of things interested her. She had to think of something. This was suppose to be fun. "_Oh well. I guess I'll just ride around some more until I think of something._"

Driving around for about a half an hour, Claire still hadn't thought of anything to do, so she decided to grab something to eat. By the time she pulled into the first walk in restaurant, it was about 8:00.

"_I hope Chris is having a good time,_" she thought to herself as she parked her motorcycle at the end of the row. "_He sure could use it._" Walking into the restaurant, she set her helmet on the ordering counter. A young high-school kid took her order. Claire noticed that as he punched in her order, he would stare at her peculiarly. "_No doubt it's the outfit,_" Claire thought.

"Like the threads?" she asked him, tugging at her vest. The kid twitched and looked guilty. He hadn't meant to stare.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "You look...good." A pained look crossed his face. Claire laughed.

"Thanks."

Claire paid her amount and waited at the counter for her meal. She asked for it to go. It was nice outside, so she planned to eat with her motorcycle. Grabbing her bag when it came, she walked outside and sat down at a bench in front of her bike.

Gulping down a cheeseburger and chewing through fries, Claire thought more about Chris's situation. She too had experienced nightmares during this ordeal. They weren't on the level of Chris's, but some of them were pretty bad. They didn't occur regularly, either; just once in a blue moon. Chris's health is what kept her awake for the past few months. Ever since they had been living together, Claire heard what he went through most nights. The walls were fairly thin in their apartment. She remembered how she had finally badgered him into confessing last night.

"_He probably could have used that sooner,_" she thought guiltily. "_I shouldn't always wait until the last minute with things. The first night I heard him up, I should have talked to him right the next morning._"

Another thing she constantly thought about were her friends. They hadn't heard from Jill, Barry, or Rebecca in the last three months. As much as Claire knew they would be fine, it would have been nice to hear from them. It probably would help Chris as well. Her thoughts then shifted to Leon Kennedy. She last saw the cop after they left for Paris. Now, with his involvement with the government, she supposed he was going to be busy for a long time. Maybe, when this was all over, she and Chris could visit him. Claire was curious to know what he was up to. At the top of the list was Sherry Birkin. After Paris, Claire left her under Leon's protection.

"_Whatever happened to her?_" Claire wondered to herself. "_She said she would write all the time, but I guess if we constantly change places, she can't exactly do that._" Claire just assumed that she was still with Leon. Maybe they would even get a chance to see her, provided that they went to visit Leon.

Claire finished her meal, and drained the rest of her soda, then hiccuped. She tossed the bag and cup into the trash can next to her. She was about to get up and head back home when another motorcycle pulled into the empty space next to hers. Claire fell in love with it instantly. It was a sleek, black Harley VRSCX. The man riding it killed the engine and parked it, then swept off his helmet. He was young, about mid twenty's. He had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes with a decent build to him. He looked like a true biker. He caught Claire drooling at his ride.

"I take it you've noticed my ride," he said grinning. Now it was Claire's turn to be surprised, just like the kid at the counter.

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but _man_ is that a nice bike," she said. The man laughed.

"Thanks. It gets me from here to there. I don't get a chance to ride it that much." He unzipped his leather coat halfway down. "I take it this little lady is yours?" he asked, pointing to Claire's crimson bike next to his.

"Mmm-hmm," Claire said proudly. "I fixed it up myself."

"Cool. Do you know a lot about bikes?"

"Oh, I know enough. It's just a hobby," Claire said casually.

"Well, it looks like you know your stuff," he said, looking closely at the design. "and you look like quite the rider," he added, noting Claire's outfit. She mocked to hide a fake blush.

"Thank you. I wish I could get more involved in stuff like this, but my life is pretty crazy right now. I barely have anytime as it is." The man rolled his eyes sarcastically, but at the same time, he seemed beaten.

"Tell me about it. Mine's just as bad. I'm going to actually have to sell this one pretty soon." Claire was genuinely crestfallen. It was such a nice bike, and it was probably pretty expensive, too.

"Oh no, why's that?" she asked.

"Well, I lost my job recently, and making rent is a little hard when you have the field that I have." He shook his head. "Seven years of special training and there's not a damn thing I can do. You interested in buying?" Claire laughed.

"Sorry, I'd love to help you out, but I could barely afford this one."

She was about to ask him where he got his motorcycle, but then froze. The man was absently twirling his ring of keys on his finger, an action which Claire thought irritating, despite how nice (and attractive) this guy was. It was a full ring of keys. Claire guessed he had house keys, car keys, and the key to his motorcycle on it, along with the door remote control for a car. As it twirled, a red and white keychain bounced around it. Claire recognized it instantly.

It was the Umbrella logo.


	7. Revenge is Profitable

**Chapter 6: Revenge is Profitable...**

"_Okay Claire, don't panic,_" Claire thought nervously to herself. Her eyes didn't leave the sinister keychain. "_Stop staring at it!_" She forced her eyes away from the man's hands and looked back at his face. "_Just because he has an Umbrella token doesn't mean he's a bad guy. Hell, he could have been an honest employee who just got laid off or something._" Still, Claire didn't want to take a chance. She had to leave.

The man hadn't noticed her staring at his key's, and continued talking."I'm meeting a friend here, and we're going to hit the town. You want to come with? A girl like you shouldn't be hanging out all alone." The look he gave Claire was a dead giveaway of what he was thinking.

"_Crap, now he's hitting on me,_" Claire thought exasperated. "_The one time a guy asks you out, and he could end up trying to kill you!_" Claire stuttered and fiddled with her helmet in her hands, flipping the visor up and down.

"Uh, no...thanks. I should really be going. I've got...stuff to take care of." Nearby, a car pulled into an empty parking spot. The man cocked his head and looked at her quizzically.

"Have we met?"

Claire's heart beat faster, and her stomach did a flip flop. Now she was wishing she hadn't scarfed all that fast food. The man was starting to recognize her.

"_Oh, just probably on the news a couple times, or on an Umbrella hit list_," she thought inanely. A man had stepped out of the car, greeting the man that was talking to Claire. It looked like the person he was meeting had arrived. "_Shit, what if his friend was Umbrella too. What if he's got a better memory?_" Claire tried her best to smile casually. "No, I don't think so. I guess I just have one of those faces."

The second man joined them, and he knocked knuckles with his friend. He was shorter than the first man and built like a football player. He had a short, military crew cut. They both turned to Claire. Judging by the second man's reaction, he didn't recognize her at all. Claire still had a chance to get away unnoticed. The first man looked at her again, his eyes narrowing.

"Mac, do you know her?" the first man asked his friend. The second man, Mac, shook his head.

"No, but she does look familiar..." he said, his brow furrowed.

"_That's it, I have to get out of here. Now!_"

"Well uh, I should probably be going," Claire said hastily. She would have to walk past both of them to get to her bike. "It was nice talking with you," she added. She walked past the first man, brushing past him slightly. The man grabbed Claire's left wrist, which was holding her helmet. Her blood ran cold.

"What are you doing?" Claire demanded, trying her best to sound surprised and not angry or scared. The man wasn't even looking at her, but he had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I know I've seen you somewhere..." he said slowly. Claire's other hand balled into a fist.

"Please let go."

"I think I know where..." His grip tightened painfully on Claire's wrist.

"You're hurting me..."

The man slowly turned his head and looked at Claire. Claire thought he had looked attractive before, but now his features had changed. In the outdoor florescent light of the restaurant, his features were well illuminated. His eyes had turned sinister, and his lips were drawn in a sneer.

Claire knew she was made. She aimed a punch at his face, but he leaned back and let it sail past his ear. Her helmet clattered to the ground. She opened her mouth and tried to scream, but the man twisted her around and locked her arm behind her, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Claire's other hand tried to pull it away from her face, but she couldn't get a proper grip when he was behind her.

He dragged her, squealing, around the corner of the building. The second man, looking both alarmed and confused, followed. The man dragged Claire and shoved her against the wall. His hip was firmly pressed against her lower back, and one of his legs was cocked across the back of her knees. He had no problem holding the struggling girl. The parking lot was almost empty, and no one had seen them. The side of the building they were by was shrouded in shadow. The man had pulled Claire behind a dumpster, so anyone from the parking lot wouldn't see them.

"Ed...what are you-" the man's friend began.

"You don't remember reading the report?" The man holding Claire interrupted, locking her left arm against his body. "She's one of them."

"No way."

The man hissed a threat in her ear. "Try anything and things will get a lot worse." His hand stayed at her mouth while his other began to reach into the pockets of her cutoffs. Her face pushed into the side of the building, Claire could only stay frozen, petrified. She was unarmed and outnumbered, and they already had her subdued.

"_Oh God, what are they going to do to me?_"

The man pulled out her wallet and flipped it open. He grinned when he saw her unflattering drivers license.

"Redfield. I _knew _it." The man's friend, Mac, didn't seem to believe him.

"Bullshit, Ed. There's no way we're _that_ lucky." Ed, the man holding Claire, tossed him the wallet. He looked at her picture and name, still looking suspicious, then broke out into a sick grin and laughed hysterically. "I guess I was wrong. It is her." He looked inside it further, and took out the rest of the cash, then tossed it away. "I'm glad I didn't follow through with that bet."

Ed released his hold on Claire briefly, but before she could think to fight back, he spun her around and shoved her against the wall again. Once again, he clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing her from screaming. Claire grunted as her head collided against the wall. His other hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it across her chest, where he held it against her shoulder. Although her other arm was free, Ed's elbow was inhibiting it's movement. Claire couldn't strike back; all she could do was weakly grab his arm.

"So," Ed said coldly, "Luck brings us the bitch that cost us our careers." Claire's eyes narrowed and shot icy blue daggers of anger.

"_Watch it asshole,_" she thought angrily. There was no way he was going to get away calling her that.

Putting on a brave face was one thing, but Claire was terrified. It felt like her heart was pounding in her throat. She was desperately trying to calm herself. If she was panicked, there would be no chance of defending herself._ "All you have to do is settle down, Claire. Just wait for him to drop his guard, then crack his skull open._" Claire could fight, but she first had to get rid of the gripping fear. That was the only thing that she still had difficulty controlling. Her attacker wasn't making things any easier. He had seemed so nice before, but now he looked pure evil. He pushed his face close to Claire's, until they were almost touching foreheads.

"I guess I should introduce myself," he said. The only thing Claire could look at were his angry eyes. "No doubt you've heard that my name is Ed," He cocked his head in the direction of Mac, "and you probably know his name is Mac."

Claire thought about using her legs to hit him in the gut. The only problem was that he was standing too close. She needed about three feet of space to bring her knee up, and she had about one. His body was still pressed tightly against hers.

"We used to be officers in the U.B.C.S, until you and your fucking friends came and fucked up Umbrella." Claire saw her situation worsen. If he and Mac were in the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, then they knew what really went on in the company. That ruled out the fact that these were just pissed employees; they were soldiers.

He bared his teeth at Claire. "Do you have any idea how screwed we are? After all the trials, questionings, and not to mention fines the government hit us with, I'm about a week from living out on the street!" He smiled coldly. "But do you and your friends care? No. You came and you stuck your noses where they didn't belong!"

Claire tried to twist in his grip. "_This guy is fucking psycho!_"

"But now that you showed up, we have a few more options. One of our last assignments was to track you down. When Umbrella went under, all of the U.B.C.S were discharged. All our resources and information went down the drain. But we're not out of the loop entirely. We know what you did in Alaska, and how the government is looking for you. So is Umbrella. I'm sure they would pay nicely if we turned you over to them. Maybe they might even give us a position as bodyguards."

Claire's eyes darted away from his face, and she saw the glow of headlights strike the edge of the building, then a car engine coming close. If only she could get someone's attention, she might have a chance. She tried to scream again, and thrashed with all her might. Ed's hand only muffled her cry, and he held her down. He released her wrist and drove his fist into her stomach. Claire gasped and grunted into his hand, and tried to double over in pain, but Ed forced her upright against the wall. Stars swam in Claire's eyes as her skull connected with the wall again. Ed grabbed her wrist and pinned it to her body again.

"Don't...do that," he breathed, glaring at her. He turned his attention to his friend. "Mac, you brought your truck right?"

"Yeah, lets get her out of here." Ed shook his head. Claire gasped in his grip and squirmed.

"Not yet. The U.B.C.S's last order was to bring her in, but they didn't say that we couldn't fuck her up first." Mac grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Sure. We can just say that she fought back."

Claire couldn't help but whimper. Her breathing quickened, but since her mouth was blocked, she noisily drew air from her nose. Mac began to advance on them. She tried to pull her arm away from Ed's grasp, but he only pushed it tighter against her shoulder.

Ed pulled her away from the wall. His hand disappeared from her mouth. Claire could only grunt as he roughly pulled her by the collar away from the wall. His arm wrapping around her throat, he locked her in a tight chokehold. Once again his hand, moist from her breath, clapped over her mouth. Claire's arms were finally free, but Ed's arm was cutting off her air. It took both of them to pry just enough space for her trachea to draw air.

Claire felt something hard jab into her back. It was coming from Ed's side, just below his left arm and underneath his jacket. Claire ignored this; she had other problems to worry about. Mac was directly in front of her, lining up a punch.

"Just don't work her face." Ed said from next to her head. "She's kinda cute..."


	8. Gratitude is Expensive

**Chapter 8: ...Gratitude is Expensive**

Mac pulled back his fist and prepared to strike Claire somewhere in her exposed abdomen. It was now or never. She saw her chance and took it. Grabbing Ed's arm around her neck for support, she lashed out her leg in a kick. It hit Mac in the stomach. When he lurched forward, Claire grunted and followed up with her other foot across his face. Her brown boot caught him square in the mouth. Mac fell to the side clutching his mouth. Claire's reward for her action was the tightening of the arm across her throat. She wheezed as she struggled to draw breath through her nose.

"Jesus! Mac, you okay?" asked Ed, sounding surprised. He wrenched Claire's neck painfully, and she emitted a small squeak through his hand.

Mac, on his hands and knees, spit out a mouthful of blood. "Ugh...fucking bitch broke a tooth!" Sure enough, in the small pool of blood on the ground lay the greater part of his eyetooth. Mac wiped a hand across his mouth, smearing the blood against the back of his hand.

Ed wrenched Claire's neck. "Alright, forget what I said about the face."

Claire doubted that she could strike back again. She felt the hard object poke her in the back again.

"_Could he be carrying a gun?_" she thought. If he was, her chances would increase. The only problem was grabbing it.

Mac had gotten to his feet and was about to try and punch her again. Claire kicked out at him again, but he easily saw it coming this time. He didn't know that Claire wasn't aiming for him. The kick she threw was just a windup. She thrust her leg back and felt her boot connect with Ed's shin, and his voice grunt in pain in her ear. She felt his arms slacken briefly as she hit, but only for a second. Pushing off the pavement with her other foot, she hurled both herself and Ed into the wall. As Claire sandwiched him into the stone wall of the restaurant, she felt his grip slacken again.

Mac rushed to assist. Before Ed was able to tighten his choke again, Claire was able to turn her body a few inches. Her right arm reached back, under her left arm, and into Ed's coat. Her fingers closed around cold metal. She pulled, and with the sound of a snapping button her arm came flying back out with a pistol clutched in her hand. The safety was even off.

Ed's hand left her mouth and grabbed her arm. He was trying to regain control of his firearm. The gun swung wildly as he tried to pull her arm to the side. Mac was a few feet in front of her, reaching for the gun as well. Claire pulled the trigger. The gun went off once, then twice more. Each shot rang out loudly in the area behind the building. Two of the rounds hit Mac in the stomach, and he fell back, clutching his wounds.

"Fuck! Mac!" yelled Ed, shocked that his friend had been hit. He wrenched Claire's arm to the side, and the gun fell from her grasp. It clattered along the cement. Ed tossed Claire the other way, then dove for the gun. He righted himself and lined up Claire in the sights. She was quick, though. Claire had managed to get to her feet and tackle him just as he turned around. They both fell to the ground, grunting.

The gun clattered away from both of them. While on top of him, Claire balled her fist and struck Ed in the face. After being pummeled several times, Ed managed to catch the flailing girl's wrists, and threw her off of him. Claire rolled on the ground and got to her feet just as he did. She didn't know it, but she was in between him and the gun. When he paused, she dropped into a fighting stance.

Jill Valentine's voice echoed in Claire's head. "_Watch what kind of stance your opponent goes into; it'll tell you where he will try to kick._"she said. Ed's left leg stepped back, and he raised his arms in a boxing position. "_Don't spend a lot of time watching his feet. He'll only be able kick in certain ways. He could still try a spinning kick, but you should be able to see the wind up. It's his hands that will be tough to predict._"

Both Ed and Claire were breathing heavily. Adrenaline was coursing through both of them. Claire's knee was skinned from the harsh contact with the pavement, and her palms stung from catching her falls. Ed looked physically unhurt, but Claire could see the pain in his face.

Ed kicked with his left leg, aiming for Claire's head. "_If your opponent kicks, move in close and hit him. He won't be ready for a close range attack._" Claire stepped in and blocked his leg with both of her hands. Before he had a chance to recover from it, she struck him in the head with the back of her right fist. "_Always combo up if you can_." Claire's left fist followed her right, and struck him across the temple. Ed grunted in pain and fell back in surprise. He rubbed the spot where she hit, then went back into his stance.

Ed lunged and punched at Claire. She blocked one, then another, folding her arms and using them to shield her head. "_Never strike until you're sure you can hit him._" Ed struck low, trying to hit her unprotected body. Claire swept her arm down and countered the punch. As the punch sailed past, she hooked him across the face. The blow turned his head, but he recovered quickly and struck Claire across the face with he back of his hand.

They both reeled in pain. Claire pressed a hand to her left eye. He had almost struck her directly on it. She waved the pain away and focused; Ed was regaining himself. He stared at her with intense hatred. She returned the favor, one of her blue eyes once again flashing.

Ed lunged for Claire again, kicking at her. She blocked and swung her leg outward, aiming for his head. He stopped her kick, and she quickly jabbed at his face with her fist. He blocked it, but failed to see that her punch was only a distraction. Claire's dominant right arm drilled into his stomach. She pulled it back and upper-cutted him in the chin as he doubled over. Ed reeled back holding his mouth, and Claire launched forward, twisting sideways and kicking, throwing her weight into her leg. She struck his chest with her boot, and he fell over on his back. Ed cried out as he landed hard. He arched his back in pain, and held both his chest and his tailbone.

Claire darted back a few steps and dropped low into her stance again. Ed got to his feet a little slowly. His lip was bleeding, and Claire could see his teeth stained red when he snarled at her. His eyes were still burning, but she could also tell that they were wandering a bit.

"Had enough?" she taunted. She was feeling more and more confident in herself. Ed didn't respond. Instead, he just charged her like a bull. Claire was taken aback, and she almost froze in panic. Narrowly dodging a punch that probably would have taken off her head, she threw her own, aiming for his eye. He blocked it and grabbed her wrist, then pulled her off balance. Claire stumbled, and he locked her in a chokehold again. This time, his other arm locked with it's brother and his hand pushed against the back of her skull, pressing Claire into his arm.

Claire choked. She couldn't draw any air in. In an effort to lessen his hold, she tried to elbow him, but he stood directly behind her. None of her strikes connected. Desperately, she kicked backwards. It landed and Ed collapsed, dragging Claire with him. Still, he held his hold on her. They were both on their knees. Claire's vision was starting to turn spotty. She opened her mouth and tried to call for help; someone must have heard the gunshots. All that came out was a gag.

Ed was breathing heavily in her ear. "Die, you bitch!"

Jill's voice floated through Claire's head one last time. "_Don't forget about all the simple tactics..._"

"_Ugh...Play dead!_" gasped Claire. She shut her eyes and slowly stopped fighting. Concentrating with all her might to stay conscious, she let her arms fall limply away from his arms. Now that her arms weren't supporting her, the pressure on her neck was even worse. She stilled her breathing stayed quiet. She was seconds away from blacking out.

After giving her one last painful wrench, Ed slowly released his grip on her. Her windpipe released, she took a deep breath of fresh air. At the same time, she surprised him by jerking her head back. Claire heard a faint sound of bone breaking as she felt his nose crumple against her skull. Ed released her.

Claire fell forward and rolled along the ground. As she did, she caught sight of the gun laying on the ground. She scrambled and picked it up, then got to her feet and pointed it at Ed, who had just gotten to his feet as well. He was preparing to attack her again, but froze on the spot when he saw that she had retrieved the gun.

Claire gasped for air, then coughed. Her neck was sore, and it burned when she swallowed. She held the gun steadily in both hands, her right hand held the handle, and her left was cupped underneath, steadying it. Her left eye was shut (it was starting to swell anyway) and her right was looking intensely down the sights. They were focused on Ed's chest, directly over his heart.

Ed stared at her angrily. She had won against all odds. A 19 year old girl had beaten two Umbrella hired mercenaries.

A few meters next to them, Mac groaned and rolled over. His blood had pooled on the pavement from his stomach wounds. Claire's eyes briefly darted to see if he was still alive, but then went back to Ed.

Ed broke out into a cold smile. "What now? You going to kill me?" He spread his arms out, palms up. "I don't think a bitch like you has it in her." He spat the word 'bitch'.

Claire dropped her left hand from the gun and held it by her right only. Her left hand simply dropped to her waist. Ed had pushed a Redfield's temper as far as it would go. She pursed her lips together.

"You're right, I don't have it in me to kill a person in cold blood," Claire said quietly.

Claire lazily dropped the gun from his chest and fired. A red cloud of blood emitted from the back of Ed's knee as the bullet passed through it. His patella disintegrated, and he dropped to the ground, holding his leg and howling in pain.

"But that doesn't mean I can't _shoot_ you," she added, lowering the gun and seething at him. Ed rocked back in forth clutching his bleeding knee. "_Serves him right_."

Behind her, the world exploded in a brilliant white light. A combination of headlights, spotlights, and flashing red and blue police lights blinded Claire when she turned. Several car doors opened and shut, and she saw dark figures take position around her and point weapons at her.

"Drop the gun and get on the ground, hands behind your head," shouted a voice over a bullhorn. Claire jumped in surprised and raised her arms, then let the gun fall from her grasp. The trigger guard tangled on her finger briefly before it clattered to the ground. She kneeled down, then sprawled herself down on the cement, then clasped her hands behind her head, fingers intertwined. There was the sound of boots pounding on the ground, and several policemen wrenched her hands behind her, then cuffed them together. Claire didn't resist; she would be safe in their custody.

Wincing slightly as they hiked her to her feet, she groaned. "_How the hell am I going to explain this to Chris?_ _I'm sure he'll freak._" The cop escorting her sat her in the nearest squad car, and shut the door, locking her in. Outside, she could see the police swarm Ed and Mac. They didn't cuff them right away because of their injuries, but Claire could see them watching both of them carefully. An ambulance pulled up, and dispatch several paramedics.

Claire turned her head away as they began to stabilize Mac's and Ed's injuries. She leaned her head back against the plastic seat in the back of the police car and closed her eyes.


	9. Recap

**Chapter 9: Recap**

Claire sat on a metal chair with her hands folded on the table in front of her. As much as she was sick of sitting up straight, she couldn't exactly lean and put her cheek on her hands. The handcuffs on her wrists would only make that position more uncomfortable. A discarded ice pack was sitting on the metal table she sat at. It was slowly causing a haze of water to condense on the table's surface. The ice pack had been pressed against her left eye socket to reduce the swelling. Now the side of Claire's face was numb, so she decided to give it a break. Plus, she was tired of holding both of her arms up. The swelling in her eye was already going down.

She had been waiting for about twenty minutes in a police interrogation room. The only sign of life she had seen in it was the nameless cop who had stopped in briefly to give her the ice pack. The room was a drab one, with gray walls, and dark tiled floor. The ceiling was made of some sound-absorbing material. A large mirror took up most of one of the walls, and Claire sat facing it. There wasn't much else she could do except stare at her reflection. Claire figured that it was one of those one way mirrors. She saw a reflection of herself and the room, but whoever was looking through the other side would see into the room. Claire wondered if there were people on the other side watching her right now.

"_Probably, but so what? I'm safe here, and I haven't done anything wrong. I was just defending myself." _Claire sighed, bored._ "I just wish that they would hurry up and get this over with._" She desperately wanted to call Chris and tell him what happened. Drumming her fingers impatiently on the metal table, she tried to think of a way to arrange her story. "_There's not much to it: tell the truth. That'll be the quickest way out of here._" She sighed again. Along with being bored, she was also tired as hell from her skirmish. Claire wanted nothing more than to be back in her bed. She glanced at the clock hanging above the mirror. It was 9:30. She shifted on the uncomfortable seat. Along with being bored, she was a little nervous. Always the family rebel, Claire remembered her mother warning her that she would end up in jail.

At last, the door to the room opened, and a man entered. He was wearing dress pants, a white shirt, and a loosely done striped tie that Claire thought was a travesty to fashion. His black hair was slickly combed back with ample amounts of styling gel. Claire instantly recognized him as a cop from the badge that hung from his shirt pocket. He also wore a gun at his hip, along with the assorted law enforcement tools. Like Claire, he seemed almost exhausted. Entering the room, he tossed a bundle of papers on the table. He collapsed in the chair opposite of Claire, then ran a hand over his face.

He addressed Claire in a thick, Brooklyn accent. "Alright, Miss Redfield, I'll try to make this as painless as possible." He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. "First off, let me introduce myself. I'm Detective Kent."

"Hi," Claire said awkwardly. She wasn't really sure how she was supposed to address a cop. Kent pulled a cigarette out with his teeth and lit it with the lighter. He offered the pack to Claire.

"Smoke?" Claire wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"I didn't think so." Kent took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke. Claire coughed as the smoke reached her, but he didn't seem to notice. "How's the eye?"

Claire reached up and gingerly felt the side of her face. "It's a little sore, but it's fine."

He dropped the pack of cigarettes on the table, took out a small tape recorder from his pocket. He flipped it on, set it on the desk, then wearily rubbed his eyes. "I know you've been through quite an ordeal, and you probably want nothing more than to get out of here. I have the exact same feeling. I'm working off of zero hours of sleep. I just want to ask you a few questions about some things, then you're free to go."

Claire raised her arms, her hands palms up. "Ummm...What about these?" she asked, referring to the handcuffs. If all they wanted to do was talk, why did they slap steel bracelets on her? "Are these really necessary?"

"Oh, sorry about that. It's just standard protocol. We did find you at a crime scene with a smoking gun. Rules are rules..."

"_I hate protocol_," she thought.

"...It's just until we get the facts straight."

Kent opened up the bundle of papers and fingered through what might have been notes. Claire was unable to read the writing from across the table and upside down. After browsing through several pages, he tapped his finger on the table, thinking to himself.

"Alright, start from the beginning. What happened tonight?"

Claire took a deep breath and told him the events that transpired, starting with how she met Ed and Mac, then about how they attacked her. She spoke truthfully word for word. She left out, however, the part about how she shot Ed in the knee.

After she finished, Kent began to ask her for more specific details. "At what point did you suspect that Ed was affiliated with the Umbrella Corporation?"

"I saw that he had an Umbrella logo key chain. I know it wasn't enough to prove that he was working for them, but I didn't want to take any chances."

"You tried to leave?"

"Yes, but Mac showed up just as I was. When I tried to walk past him, he grabbed me. Before I could think to defend myself, he pulled me away."

"Where did he take you?"

"Well, they were going to take me _somewhere_, but first, they said they wanted to 'fuck me up.' They just held me behind the building. Ed grabbed me around the neck, and it looked like Mac was going to start hitting me."

Kent extinguished the butt of his cigarette, then lit another one. He took a long drag before asking her another question. "How did you come into possession of the gun?"

"I felt it through Ed's coat as he held me, and managed to distract him by kicking him. He had his arm around my neck, so it was difficult. I managed to push him into a wall. Then, I was able to get enough room to twist and grab it."

"And when you fired it, were you aiming for his accomplice?"

Claire's eyelashes fluttered. "Yes. They both said that they were going to hurt me. I only meant to shoot once, but there was a struggle, and it went off accidentally."

"I see...You said that Ed managed to get the gun away from you?" Claire nodded and continued her story about how she and Ed fought hand to hand.

"And afterwards, you recovered the firearm?" Kent's second cigarette had filled the small, airless room with white smoke. Claire coughed again, and her eyes watered.

"I'm sorry, but could you put that out?" she asked. Kent smiled sheepishly and mashed the cigarette in an ashtray.

"Sorry. I know it's a bad habit. My wife keeps bugging me to quit. So you were saying...?"

"Yeah, I got the gun back."

"And at that point, did he attack you again?" Kent asked.

Claire fidgeted in her seat. "No."

"Then how did Ed end up getting shot in the leg?" Claire swallowed. She knew this was going to come. It felt good to shoot Ed in the leg. But after mulling it over for a while, Claire realized that it was probably a bad idea.

"I shot him. Out of anger," she admitted. "But I didn't aim to kill him," she added quickly. "It was a stupid thing to do, I know. It's just that...I was so mad that he just attacked me for such a personal reason."

"Yeah, I know," he said absentmindedly. "His knee is going to have to be replaced."

Claire swallowed again. "So...what's going to happen to me because of that?" Kent waved his hand.

"I wouldn't worry about it. You were panicked, cornered, and your life was threatened. Plus, these guys both had records a mile long. Ed had already been arrested for theft, violence, rape...he was even suspected in a murder case. Mac's wasn't anymore glamorous." He raised his eyebrows. "We've had our eye on both of them for some time. But, as I'm sure you know, Miss Redfield, when Umbrella is involved..."

"...the evidence disappears," Claire finished for him.

"Exactly. So we'll probably end up thanking you for helping us finally catch these guys."

"Ummm...What happened to those two anyway." Claire asked. She felt a little guilty about shooting Mac twice in the stomach, even if he was trying to hurt her. She hoped that she hadn't killed him.

"Well, I told you about Ed. His knee is going to be replaced. Then he's going straight to prison. Mac was a little more seriously injured. He almost bled out in the emergency room, but the doctors were able to stabilize him. It looks like he's going to make it, but he's in critical condition now." Claire felt a little better that she hadn't outright killed him, but not much. "Once he's back to full health, he's headed to the same place as Ed."

Kent closed the bundle of papers, as to end the matter. "Now, is there anyone you'd like to call?"

"My brother," she replied instantly.

Kent ran this hand over his hair. "We actually tried to contact him before. There was no answer at your residence. When you were registered here, one of the cops recognized the name Redfield. He responded to a disturbance at a bar downtown earlier tonight.

Kent leaned forward. "Miss Redfield, did you know that you brother is in the hospital right now?"

Claire bolted up out of her chair.

"What!?"


	10. Trading Stories

**Chapter 10: Trading Stories**

Chris was sitting upright on a hospital cot. His only apparent injury was the splint across his nose from when the man in the bar head butted him. When he had felt it earlier it didn't feel broken, but when a nurse examined it, she thought that maybe it was a hairline fracture. Just to be safe, she plastered a splint on him. Chris honestly thought that his jaw hurt a lot worse. The woman had done some serious damage to it, but he was lucky that it wasn't dislocated or broken. The rest of his injuries included a bruised tail bone and a cut along the side of his scalp that needed four stitches, and about a dozen small bruises.

Chris was waiting for the nurse to return and discharge him. She had given him some painkillers, but that was fifteen minutes ago, and Chris was wishing that they would work faster. He sat and stared at his knees.

"_How am I going to explain this to Claire?_" he asked himself. "_She'll freak out when she finds out._" He sighed then leaned back and stared at the ceiling of his room. "_She's got enough stuff to worry about without having to constantly see me injured._ _I should be protecting her, not giving her more problems._" Chris mentally kicked himself. "_Idiot._"

There was the sound of a scuffle outside, then the metallic clatter of metal falling over. It was coming from the hallway outside his door. Chris sat up. "_What is that?_" At first, he thought that it could be that woman, coming to finish him off. Instead, the door burst open and Claire skidded into the room, out of breath. She was wearing her riding clothes. She stared at him wide eyed.

"Chris!"

Chris was taken slightly aback. He had no idea how she found out that he was here. "Uh...Claire. What're you doing here?"

Claire panted and made her way to Chris's cot. "Cops...told me...you were here." she said in between breaths. "What happened?"

Chris smiled sheepishly. "I uh, got into a fight in a bar." Claire finally stopped panting and regained her normal breathing.

"Are you okay?" She spotted the stitches on the side of his head. "Here, lemme see."

Chris batted her hand away from his head wound. "Claire, don't," he said firmly. "I've been checked out, and I'm fine. Just a little sore."

Despite his reassurance, Claire still leaned forward, peering worriedly at his face. "How did it happen? I told you not to get drunk, your temper..."

"Had nothing to do with it." Chris hated to see her so worked up. "I didn't get drunk. It was something...darker than that." Claire's face went from worried to a mixture of confusion.

"What are you talking about?" Chris told her about the events that transpired: about how he met the woman in the black dress, the fight with the men, and then how he and the woman fought.

"Do you think she was telling the truth?" asked Claire when he finished. "What if she really is with Umbrella?"

"No. If she was with Umbrella, I would have been dead. And I don't think it could be Wesker either."

Claire sat on the edge of his bed. "Well, why not?"

Chris laughed bitterly. "It's personal. He wouldn't send someone else after me, let alone directly confront me. If it was Wesker, he would find us, then show up himself."

Claire clutched Chris's hand in hers. Chris could tell she was nervous."Still, do you think we should move?" Chris shook his head.

"No, we're fine-" 

"We could go stay with Barry, or Jill..."

"Claire, no." Chris squeezed her hand back reassuringly. "I said we're fine. I don't know what happened tonight, but I'm sure that it's not related to anything. We can't go jumping to conclusions at every little thing that happens." Claire sighed in relief.

"Alright, I trust you." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Now, it was Chris's turn to lean forward.

"What happened to your eye?" Chris asked. Her face was swollen around the side of her eye, and the skin was a little red.

"Oh...nothing," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Claire, I just sat here and told you that a woman kicked the crap out of me. Spill it."

Claire winced. "Well, your night might not have been unrelated, but mine wasn't." She told her brother about what had happened to her. When he heard it, he bolted forward and grabbed her shoulder.

"Are you kidding me? It was Umbrella?"

Claire put her hand on top of his. "It's not what you think," she told him. "I wasn't hunted down or anything. I just bumped into two..." she sighed, "...people who couldn't let go of a grudge."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Claire grinned. "Yeah. I kicked their asses." Her smile faded. "And uh, by the way, we have to pick up my bike at the police impound." Chris rolled his eyes and she giggled nervously.


	11. Full Circle

**Chapter 11: Full Circle**

Chris reached for his gun, but it was still several feet away. He grunted in pain and tried to inch forward. The Hunter had mauled his leg beyond recognition. Several of his tendons and ligaments were cut, rendering it useless. Chris used his arms and his remaining leg to haul himself across the metal floor on his stomach. He was almost within reach of his Glock. His head was swooning from the torrents of blood that he lost.

Jill sat propped against the wall with her head hanging down. She was riddled with bullet wounds. She managed to drop the Hunter that attacked Chris with the last of her ammo. Her beret had fallen off of her head, and her brown hair hung over her face, hiding it. Chris couldn't tell if she was breathing.

"Ugh...Jill! Stay with me!" Chris cried. She didn't respond.

Chris heard a girl's voice yelp and a familiar laugh. Pulling himself around a table, he saw a horrible sight. What he had heard was Rebecca. She was suspended off the floor by her neck. The man holding her by the throat was Wesker.

Rebecca choked and sputtered. Both of her hands were clasped on Wesker's wrist. She was futilely trying to pull herself free. Her legs kicked wildly in the air, searching for something to stand on to relieve her body's suspension.

Chris violently struggled to get to his gun. It seemed just as far away as it always did. No matter how he tried, he could never seem to get any closer to it. He let out a groan and tried to push the pain out of his mind. Weakly, he collapsed to the floor, his cheek hitting the cold metal. His blurring vision focused briefly on the cruel scene unfolding.

Wesker grinned and stared at Rebecca's writhing form. His red eyes locked onto her green ones. They could only stare haplessly back at them. Rebecca's choking became weaker and weaker. Then, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Wesker tightened his grip on her neck, and there was a wet crunching noise as her vertebrae broke in his hand. Rebecca's legs stopped kicking, and her arms slowly slid off of Wesker's wrist and dangled at her sides.

Chris screamed. "Rebecca!"

Wesker laughed and let her body drop to the floor. He turned to Chris and smiled broadly. His red eyes flashed.

Chris woke with a start. He was halfway propped up on his bed, with sweat from his face dripping onto his pillow. He realized where he was, then sighed in frustration, collapsing back into his pillow.

"_Well, at least it wasn't Claire this time,_" he thought as he swung his legs out of bed. Rebecca's pitiful dying face stayed etched in his mind. "_What, Rebecca isn't important to you?_" Rebecca was the person who reminded Chris the most of Claire; they all could have been siblings. He silently apologized to nobody. True, he was grateful that he hadn't dreamed of his sister, but all the same, he felt as if he wished harm upon Rebecca by dismissing her so quickly.

Chris got out of bed and went to his bathroom. He didn't feel like throwing up, but he still felt nauseous. He leaned over the sink and sipped a cup of water. Already he felt better. He changed shirts, then wiped himself clean of sweat. Back in the darkness of his room, he tossed the sweat soaked shirt in the direction of his laundry hamper. Not caring that it hit the wall, Chris slipped into a dry shirt and sat on the edge of his bed, but he really didn't feel like going back to bed.

Chris left his room and headed into the living room, intending to watch some late night TV. He was surprised to find the TV already on, with Claire in her pajamas huddled under a blanket on the couch, absently watching it without the sound on.

Claire looked a little guilty. "Hey, did I wake you?"

Chris scratched his head and yawned. "No. I was already up."

"Let me guess: more dreams?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep either."

"You want to talk?"

Claire shook her head. "Not really."

Chris sat down next to her. "Oh? Why not?"

"I'm just a little hyped up is all. Too much adrenaline." Claire didn't look at him when she talked.

"_I'll just wait,_" Chris told himself. He guessed Claire didn't know that she easily revealed that she was lying. Sure enough, Claire made a face, sighed heavily, then fessed up.

"I was scared tonight. I know what to expect, and still, I can't get a grip." She sighed again, this time sounding frustrated. "I just don't get it! Every time something happens, I almost panic and lose it. When I'm with you and Jill and the others, I'm more confident, but when I'm alone, I feel helpless. I don't know how many more times I'm going to get lucky." She turned to her brother. "How do the rest of you keep a straight head through all this?"

Chris turned his head away from her and smiled to himself. No matter how much a soldier she had become, Claire still seemed to think that it would be easy.

"Hm. Want to know something?" Chris asked. "How much do you know about my time after the Air Force and when I first joined S.T.A.R.S?"

Claire looked surprised. The question was a little off topic. "Not too much," she admitted.

Chris waved his hand. "Come here."

Claire shuffled over on the couch closer to Chris. He drew his arm around her shoulder and gently lowered her head onto his thigh. He brushed some of her hair away from her face.

"Let me tell you a story that'll help." Chris had never told anyone what he was about to tell her. "When I first joined S.T.A.R.S, I was scared to death." He down at Claire. She looked even more surprised. He could see her eyes narrow in surprise as they absently watched the TV.

"Really?"

Chris nodded. "Yep. My first mission was the worst. I was so afraid that I might not be ready for a live mission. Wesker had given me quite the training program." Chris laughed. "With everything that's happened with him, I tried to believe that the Wesker I knew back then was a different person. But, I'd only be lying to myself. He had told me himself in the mansion: he had been working with Umbrella from the start." Chris shook his head. "But anyway, the S.T.A.R.S were dispatched to an armed robbery at the Raccoon City bank. Six men, fully armed, had taken a hostage. Several cops and civilians were already injured during weapons fire. Negotiations were going nowhere, and their were lives at stake."

Chris held up his hand and stared at the palm of it. "Claire, I was shaking so bad that I could hardly load my rifle. I barely managed to calm myself down in time. We stormed the place. I teamed with Jill and Wesker. We breached the front door and would be taking the brunt of the gunfire. Barry, Enrico, and Joseph rappelled through the skylight. Kenneth, Forest, and Richard cut off the back entrance, so the perps couldn't back out. I could barely hear anything. Flashbangs were thrown left and right. There was enough shooting to last a lifetime." Chris lowered his hand.

"I experienced the first time I killed someone face to face. He went down firing, and clipped my armor on the way down. I thought I'd been shot and fell over. By the time I pulled myself together, one of the robbers was lining up a shot on me from behind a counter. Almost nobody realized that only five of the perps had been taken out. Jill was the only one who acted in time. She shot right past my head, and took him out. Afterwards, Jill had to help me up. I was shaking so much that I couldn't stand up on my own."

Chris finished his story, and didn't say anything else. Neither did Claire. There was only a quiet electrical hum as the TV displayed it's silent pictures. Some talk show was on. After a while, Chris spoke again.

"Claire, the point is that I chose a life of combat, and it scared the hell out of me." He hadn't looked at her the entire time he told, but now he did. Her eyes were cast downwards to the floor. "You're just an ordinary girl, and you got thrown into my type world. You have every right to be afraid. I got used to it, and so will you. It's alright to be scared; just give it time, and it'll get easier."

"Thanks Chris," Claire said quietly after a pause. "I'm glad you told me that."

For a while, nothing was said between the siblings.

"Claire?"

She didn't respond. She had fallen asleep. The blanket she wrapped herself in had slipped off, so Chris drew it over her. He tipped his head against the sofa and closed his eyes, slowly drifting to a dreamless sleep.

**The End. Sleep well, Redfields...**


End file.
